


Second Hand News

by hydianway



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friendly Lies and Slander, M/M, Rumours, Super Secret (Magic) Boyband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydianway/pseuds/hydianway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five completely made up rumours everyone in Thremedon seems to believe, and one true one that no one does at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Hand News

**Author's Note:**

> Pure fluff and things I think are funny. My girlfriend made me do it, and it was supposed to be half this long but unsurprisingly, things got away from me somewhat.
> 
> Currently unbeta-ed, so any mistakes you'll find are all my own. 
> 
> Please note that the contents of the Fleetwood Mac song by the same title have very little to do with the contents of this fanfiction, but I currently (or always, lbr) have Fleetwood Mac tunnel vision and in this case thought that 'Rumours' was too obvious a title. I am really very sorry for being the way I am.

 

**i.**

"Apparently we're shagging," Adamo says, standing in the doorway to Royston's study.

"Again?" Royston asks, not looking up from the papers in front of him, which at first glance look somewhat official, but upon closer inspection reveal themselves to be a catalogue for one of the more fashionable hat shops on the Rue d'St. Difference. "Really? I thought they'd gotten bored of that one in our 'Versity days."

He looks up from his desk and grins, apparently in fond reminiscence of the storm of rumours that used to follow them about like a particularly persistent storm cloud every time they were seen out in public together, and sometimes even when they weren't.

Adamo grunts. "Seems not."

"That’s a bit dull, really, isn't it. I'll have to talk to Antoinette, see if she can't start something more interesting."

Adamo rolls his eyes. "Or," he says, in an exaggeratedly patient tone,"you could not do that, and also, please, tell me why everyone in this Bastion-accursed city is so ready to believe I would ever, ever, want to fuck you."

"It’s because I’m irresistible," Royston says, "of course. Besides, it's Thremedon, people will believe anything. And I don’t _have_ to ask Antoinette to start something better, I suppose, but where would be the fun in that?"

He smiles, and goes back to his hat catalogue. Adamo knocks the back of his head against the doorframe.

 

 **ii.**  

" _Hal_ and _Caius Greylace_?" Royston sputters, incredulous. "Antoinette, I know you're upset that I didn’t want anything to do with your little proposal last week, but did you really have to drag _Hal_ into it?"

Antoinette smiles. "You did ask for more interesting rumours, Royston. It's hardly my fault, what the people of Thremedon choose to believe."

Royston goes red and opens and shuts his mouth as if he's struggling to speak, or perhaps to breathe. Antoinette only smiles more widely, with the air of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing and very much enjoys it. 

"The offer is still on the table," she says. "I hope you will reconsider."

"B-- but--"

"I really do feel you’ll have a lot to contribute. And in the meantime, isn’t it unfortunate how much people like to _talk_?"

She stands up from the table in the bustling cafe, and looks down at Royston, who is still apparently at a loss.

"I’ll see you next week, then." She turns to walk out of the cafe, but seems to think better of it a second later, and stops to address to Royston one final, smirking remark. "If it helps," she says. "Anyone who’s heard the rumours seems to be very sympathetic to your plight."

" _Caius Greylace_ , though!" Royston says, having finally recovered the power of speech. "Hal would _never_."

Antoinette laughs like the tinkling of bells and finally swishes her skirts out through the door.

  

**iii.**

"Did you know," Royston hears someone whisper to their neighbour as he and Hal step through the crowd at one of the Esarina’s balls, "I heard the Margrave Royston-- that man, just there, in the gold-- I heard he _and_ his assistant are sleeping with the old Chief Sergeant of the Airmen."

"Really?" asks the neighbour, looking incredulous. "Chief Sergeant _Adamo_?"

"The very same." The woman looks positively gleeful.

"Never thought he’d be the type, but you never know, do you? Is that the Margrave's assistant there, then?"

The woman is clearly trying very hard to look inconspicuous as she cranes her neck to get a closer look at Royston and Hal through a small group of partygoers.

"Yes, that’s him,’ replies the first woman, apparently unaware of exactly how well voices carry in this particular ballroom. "Came up from the countryside a few years back and saved Volstov, remember? He seems like a nice boy."

"Well, the Margrave Royston does have rather a… reputation, shall we say, for seduction. Poor thing, probably didn’t know what he was getting into."

Upon hearing this, Royston flushes, and it seems like he’s about to walk over there to set the two of them straight when he feels Hal’s hand on his arm.

“Let’s not,” he says. “It’ll cause a scene.”

Royston notices Hal is also blushing, a rather nice shade of pink under his freckles.

"It’s not as if I can’t see where they’re coming from," Hal continues with a smirk, "what with Adamo over at our place every other day of the week, and you know, he’s an attractive man for his age. With arm muscles and everything."

Hal steps in closer to Royston and grins even more wickedly, and Royston momentarily forgets what he’s so upset about. Then he hears the gossips giggling among themselves, and it comes back almost immediately.

"I’m going to _murder_ Antoinette," he says, under his breath.

Hal puts his arm around his waist. 

" _Murder_ her," Royston repeats, though it doesn’t sound as if his heart is entirely in it. He leans in to Hal. 

"Hang on--" he asks, a moment later, " _what_ was that about Owen’s arm muscles?’

"What?" says Hal. "It was a joke. Do you want something to eat? There has to be food around here somewhere, doesn't there."

 

**iv.**

Royston is pacing frantically in front of the stairwell when Hal walks in the door from a day at the ‘Versity, struggling under a heavy load of books.

"You’re not actually shagging Adamo, are you?" he asks, wringing his hands together. He looks wretched, pale and borderline hysterical, and he’s just drunk the entire contents of the pot of coffee Hal left on the bench that morning.

" _What?_ " says Hal.

"You-- you’re not shagging Adamo, are you? Tell me the truth, I can take it, I just need to know--"

He breaks off. Hal looks confused, and a little angry.

" _No_ , you daft old man, of _course_ I’m not shagging Adamo. It's-- he’s-- _Adamo_." 

"Right. Thank Bastion." Royston  sighs, and sags against the bannister in relief. "Hal--"

"Why would you ever believe that I’d-- how could you ever actually think I’d do that to you?’ Hal continues. He actually looks quite hurt, and Royston feels a sinking in his gut, like he’s just kicked a puppy by accident.

‘Hal-- I didn’t really-- only people were talking, and Adamo, well, Adamo-- _he’sgotarmmuscles._ ’ Royston manages the last part of the sentence in a squeaky little voice, just barely above a whisper.

‘What?’ asks Hal. ‘ _Arm_ muscles?!’

Royston nods, ashen faced. Hal starts to laugh.

"You thought," he wheezes. "That I’d be _bothered_ \-- oh, Bastion, this is too funny-- by the fact that you have _no arm muscles_. Oh dear. _Royston_."

Hal puts his textbooks on the floor and straightens up, and walks to where Royston is slumped against the railings. He strokes a thumb across Royston's cheekbone, and gives him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Royston," he says seriously. "I love you. I love you enough, in fact, that I have barely ever even _noticed_ that your biceps have the same consistency as cooked noodles. Which they do, by the way, but I love you, so it doesn't matter."

"Good," says Royston, weakly. "Because I love you too, but I've never done a day's exercise in my life, and I'm too old to start now so if you were after arm muscles you'd be flat out of luck, and so would I because then you'd leave me for some bright young thing who knows about lifting weights, and probably goes running every single morning. Or Adamo. But you're not going to! So that's good. That's really good. I'm talking too fast, aren't I?" 

He smiles, and notices that his hands are shaking, probably from all the caffeine he's ingested in the past half hour. 

"Yes, you are," says Hal. "You sap."

He kisses him again. 

 

**v.**

"This has gone too far," Royston says, pulling up his chair to the table in the cafe where he and Antoinette meet every week for coffee and mostly-friendly sniping. " _You_ and Hal? Really? I thought the one about Greylace was bad enough, and I nearly _believed_ the one about Owen-- but I never thought you would go to these lengths. Implicating _yourself_ \--"

Antoinette shrugs. "It’ll blow over soon enough, and no one will even remember. I think you’re just upset because you’re not at the very centre of attention, with all these rumours about Hal. I know you like it really, when absolutely everyone's talking about you."

Royston frowns. Antoinette takes a measured sip of her coffee. "So, have you reconsidered, yet?"

"Well, I’m not exactly-- you know what?" Royston puffs himself up, and then says decisively, "No, I haven’t. And I’ve _just_ decided I’m going to start a rumour about you and the Esarina. Which-- don’t give me that look, I know it’s true, don't you remember that time a few months ago, when I walked in on--"

"Yes, yes, alright, no need to bring that up any more than absolutely necessary." She flushes slightly pink, but regains her glacial composure admirably quickly.

"Tell whosoever you see fit," she says. "No one will believe you, anyway."

Royston scoffs and rolls his eyes. "This is _Thremedon_ , they’ll believe anything." 

Antoinette just smiles serenely.

 

**\+ one**

"Antoinette’s bedding the Esarina," Royston tells Hal one night, "did you know?"

"What?" says Hal. "No she isn’t, that’s ridiculous."

"She _is_ though," says Royston.

"You really shouldn’t believe those sorts of rumours, you know. Especially not after the me-and-Owen debacle just last month."

"But--"

"Go to sleep, Royston, I’ve a long day tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

"Owen," Royston says, "have you heard that Antoinette had a night of passion-- or more, even-- with the Esarina?"

"No, of course not," Adamo replies. "Because that’s complete rubbish, is why."

He snorts. "Honestly, you'll believe anything, won't you."

 

* * *

 

"The velikaia Antoinette _knows_ the Esarina,"  Royston says to a stranger on the street, "in the Biblical sense, if you take my meaning." He taps the side of his nose, trying to look conspiratorial. "I heard it from one of the servants at the palace."

"That’s just stupid," says the stranger, a short, red-nosed woman on the wrong side of forty.

She turns to hurry off on her way, muttering under her breath.

"Honestly, the things people expect you to believe these days," Royston hears her say.

He frowns. This is not going quite how he planned it. 

 

* * *

 

" _You_ know that Antoinette and the Esarina are sleeping together, don’t you?" Royston asks Caius.

"Of course, my dear," Caius says, "but you can’t just go ‘round telling people that, you know. They’ll never believe it, anyway."

And he all but dances off down the hallway.

 

* * *

 

"No one believes me!" Royston exclaims to Antoinette next Wednesday, throwing himself dramatically into one of the armchairs in the corner of the cafe. "No one! And they believed that one about Hal and you! And that one about how Hal was shagging Caius! They’ll believe anything, apparently, except the actual _truth_."

He takes an enormous bite out of the pastry Antoinette’s just put in front of him, and smiles around the crumbs already falling out of his mouth. It's good enough to cut through his bad mood. 

"Exactly," Antoinette says. "Have you changed your mind yet?"

"Fuck you," says Royston, spraying pastry flakes all over his lap, "you never give up, do you?"

Antoinette smiles, showing teeth. "I should hope not."

Rosyton finishes his mouthful, and glares at her across the table. "But yes, I have changed my mind, if you must know."

"Brilliant!" says Antoinette. "I knew you would, eventually."

She sits up very straight in her armchair, no easy feat given the amount of padding stuffed into it, and folds her hands on her lap. She starts to talk very rapidly.

"So, I was thinking, for names, do you think ‘The Magicians’ is too obvious? Or is it obvious in a sort of ironic way? I’m not sure. There are other options of course, but I'm really not the best person to be asking about them. I'm quite dreadful with names, you know. As a child I named the cat I was given 'Cat.'"

Antoinette pauses to take another sip of coffee. "Do you have any ideas?" she asks, looking brightly up at Royston. "You’re part of the band as well now, you deserve your say."

She beams across the table, and Royston tries to suppress a heavy sigh, hoping that this band thing is only a passing fancy.

"Not really, no," he says, plastering a smile on his face. "The Magicians, brilliant. When's our first practice?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you want, come chat to me on [tumblr](http://morgannalegay.tumblr.com)


End file.
